


Gray and Gold

by Strawberry_Champagne



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Champagne/pseuds/Strawberry_Champagne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over a decade after the Adephagos, Flynn showing up unannounced in Dahngrest is only the beginning of the day's surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gray and Gold

A pound and a half of pork. Five tomatoes. Two boxes of strawberries. A sack of potatoes. Yeah, that should be enough. Yuri settled his bag of cooking ingredients in the crook of his elbow, supporting it with one hand as he paid the market vendor. It was kind of heavy, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He started down the street, dreaming up new variations on his recipes for the next time he cooked for his friends and fellow guild members. Or maybe he would just stick with what works. Nah, you know what they say about variety.

Taking a corner sharply, Yuri narrowly avoided spilling the bag’s contents when he bumped into someone turning that corner at the same time. A blond someone. Who looked like hell.

“Wh—Flynn!” He couldn’t stop the grin, reflected weakly by the man who stood in front of him. “Hey, you didn’t tell me you’d be in Dahngrest.”

“I just arrived a few hours ago.” Flynn scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I meant to send a message, but…”

“Yeah, I know.” Yuri shrugged. “Lost track of time, right?”

Flynn looked guilty and weary, too-familiar stains of fatigue beneath his eyes as he met Yuri’s gaze evenly. The smile had already slipped away. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

“I just came from the Union headquarters,” he said. “Emperor Ioder requested that I speak with the Don about the troubles that we’ve been having with certain members of the Blood Alliance.”

Even all these years later, it still seemed odd to think of Harry as Don of the guild city. In Yuri’s mind, that title would always belong to a battle-hardened old man, grizzled and scarred but still with plenty of fight left in him. His grandson didn’t have his spirit, nor his ability to play some of the more blood-thirsty guild members against the interests of the Empire. Yuri didn’t really know what was going on with the mercenary guild, hadn’t heard about them stirring up any trouble. He tended to worry more about his own guild, though.

“Is that so. Huh.” Yuri shifted the food in his arms, weighing down on him uncomfortably since he’d stopped to talk to Flynn. “So, are you free now?”

Flynn gave him a blank look, probably wondering if Yuri had heard anything he said.

“Yes,” he said, dragging the word out.

“Good,” said Yuri. “‘Cause I’ve got to get these on ice.”

As he stepped to the side and continued walking, Yuri could see Flynn shake his head and take long strides to catch up with him.

“Absolutely, Yuri. I’d love to come over. Thank you for inviting me,” he chided. There was a soft smirk curving on his lips when Yuri looked over and snorted a laugh.

“Hey, I don’t have to be polite when it’s _you_.”

* * * *

Yuri’s kitchen was incredibly warm, not so much in temperature but in the atmosphere itself. On one side, light streamed in through a large window onto a table of rich cherry wood, while a long counter against the opposite wall was lined with canisters and brightly colored ceramic bowls. He always maintained in that half-joking Yuri way that he cooked with love, but Flynn didn’t doubt it. When he moved around the kitchen, there was a purposeful passion to it, somehow even enthralling to watch him brush his fingertips together to add spices into a pot and stir with the other hand in sweeping, even circles.

Flynn walked over to stand behind him and rested his hands on Yuri’s hips, pressed a kiss against the bare skin of his neck where hair had been pulled back into a tail. Yuri chuckled richly, though his stirring didn’t pause—at least, not until Flynn’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing feather-light across his hipbones.

“Uh, Flynn? Unless you really like the taste of burnt food…” He tilted his head, as if considering something. “I dunno, maybe you do, though. Knowing your taste buds. Ow! Come on, now. That’s just uncalled for.” Yuri twisted away from Flynn’s pinching fingers, laughing.

Dinner was pasta with a rich wine sauce, served with warm crusty bread. Everything was delicious, of course, but Flynn barely remembered actually eating it. Wondered if it was possible for a person to simultaneously savor and devour a dish. He also didn’t recall the actual steps it took from the kitchen into the next room.

But what he _did_ remember was layers of clothing peeled away, Yuri’s shoulders meeting the wall; breathing heavy between long, desperate kisses, a wild mingling of tongue and teeth and lips. Yuri tumbled with a grin onto wrinkled sheets, and tugged Flynn down to collapse just as ungracefully.

“Hm,” he said, hands resting on Flynn’s thighs, which straddled his stomach. “Looks like I captured a commandant. Now I just have to decide what to do with him…”

“Yuri, I think you have that backwards,” was all that Flynn managed to get out before Yuri pulled his head down for another kiss, which was surprisingly slow and gentle. He nipped a little at Flynn’s bottom lip before leaning back to look at him. There was a familiar intensity in his dark eyes, a half-lidded mixture of _want_ and deep affection.

Every time was a little different, but over the years there were certain things that Flynn had memorized—the warmth at each point where their bodies touched, the arch of Yuri’s back, the way he curled his fingers into the sheets. It had been a while. That became painfully obvious, in a very literal sense, when the hand buried in Flynn’s hair abruptly tensed and _pulled_ before relaxing. By the time that Flynn moved up to the pillows, rubbing at the back of his head, Yuri was propped up on an elbow and staring at the handful of blond hairs like they were some kind of scientific specimen. He smirked and laughed softly before closing his hand into a fist again.

“I’m glad my pain amuses you,” said Flynn, his tone mock-sullen. In actuality, despite the sharpness in his scalp, he was feeling pretty good—more relaxed than he had been in months. By his lazy smile and the way he slid bonelessly back down onto the bed, Yuri was still riding high on endorphins, himself. He clutched his hand to his chest loosely and closed his eyes.

“You should do something with that if you’re going to fall asleep. Unless you want my hair all over the bed.”

“Hm?” Yuri looked over at him, then down, and laughed again. Started to rise back up onto his elbows.

Flynn held out his hand, palm up. “Here, give it to me; you’ll probably just throw it on the floor.”

“It’s _my_ house, Flynn. Geez. Don’t worry so much.”

Smirking, Yuri pulled away when Flynn reached for his wrist, but was captured on a second attempt.

“Fine,” he said. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Flynn shot him a look of confusion when the loose hairs were transferred into his outstretched hand. After swinging his legs off the edge of the bed and taking the first steps in search of wastebasket, Flynn stopped in his tracks. And frowned.

Something didn’t belong in this picture. There, among the short golden strands, was something a bit closer to silver. It rested lightly across the creases in his palm, yet in Flynn’s mind carried a heavy weight. Still staring, he sank back down onto the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah. That.” Yuri scooted over and rested an arm on Flynn’s shoulder, peering down at the lone gray with him. “Had to happen eventually, right?”

That earned him a sharp look. “I’m _thirty-four_ ,” said Flynn.

“And?”

Flynn made a frustrated sound. “Doesn’t that seem a little young?”

“Hm. I don’t know. I mean, just look at Alexei. He wasn’t all that old when we joined the knights and his hair was already completely white.”

“…You’re not helping.”

Yuri shrugged. “You haven’t ever really struck me as a vain guy, Flynn. Makes me think this is about something else.”

The hair was incriminating, accusing. With a weary sigh, Flynn brushed it off onto the bedside table to be disposed of later. He turned toward Yuri, tucking one leg up underneath him on the bed.

“Out of curiosity, what do _you_ think caused this?”

“Heh. Probably working yourself to death. You look better right now, by the way.” Yuri’s expression was a smug one. “Maybe I should get the Emperor to officially prescribe it for you. Monthly trips to Dahngrest for your health.”

Flynn smiled tightly. “I do feel better. And you’re half-right, I think.”

“Hm?” A raised eyebrow.

“It’s hard to believe, but I have been Commandant for twelve years now. It has been challenging and exhausting, but I do feel like I’ve made a difference, Yuri. With Ioder as Emperor, there is more justice and less conflict than we’ve seen before in our lifetime.”

He took a breath. “But I think that hair—and whatever others are probably hiding in here—” Flynn carded a hand through the strands with a rueful smile. “I think it began at Zaude.”

Yuri just looked at him. “…But that was—”

“Over twelve years ago. I know. I mean it metaphorically, Yuri. When I thought—” He stopped, swallowed. “When I thought you might be dead, everything…stopped. And that isn’t the last brush with death you’ve had in the past several years.”

Flynn trailed his fingers along Yuri’s arm, not meeting his eyes. “Like last month, when you were captured by those bandits who had stolen your client’s necklace. No one could tell me what had happened to you, and I was buried in paperwork from the latest guild treaty.” He exhaled, raggedly.

“Hey, I’m fine. They didn’t rough me up too badly. All talk, you know the type.” Yuri flashed a grin. “Besides, they’re the ones who got their asses kicked.”

“I’m sure,” said Flynn, smiling. “But you should know…”

“Yeah?”

“I threw myself into my duties, Yuri. And…I collapsed.”

Yuri’s brow furrowed, and Flynn could see him trying to process this. Not knowing what else to do, he kept talking.

“A maid found me passed out in my chambers, sent for a doctor. I’m alright, but he said it was likely to happen again if I’m not careful about stress triggers. …And that it could be more serious next time.”

To get a sense of his reaction, Flynn met Yuri’s eyes. They had narrowed in concern, and his brow remained wrinkled and drawn together.

“Flynn. Man, I was just kidding when I said you were working yourself to death… uh. Wow. You sure you’re okay?”

Forcing himself to smile, Flynn nodded. “Yes. But there’s more.” Yuri’s expression of concern only deepened at that, and Flynn tried not to draw this out so that he didn’t think of something worse than the truth.

“I’ve retired from the Knights, Yuri. Things are better now, and I’ve accomplished more than I ever thought was truly possible.” He didn’t allow Yuri to interrupt, though from the look of shock on the other man’s face, he clearly wanted to. “It’s something I might not have considered before, but now it seems that it would be foolish to do otherwise.”

Yuri made a skeptical face. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not. Don’t misunderstand, I still intend to serve the Empire. But I’m afraid I lied to you this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I did go see the Don. To introduce myself as a knight ambassador to the guilds. It will be announced officially when I return to Zaphias, but His Majesty Ioder has agreed to it.”

Yuri grinned. “Wait, so…”

“He _has_ prescribed Dahngrest for my health, yes. But permanently, Yuri. I’ll report to the capital, of course, but I’ll, ah…I’ll be living here. In Dahngrest, that is,” Flynn quickly amended, not wanting to seem presumptuous. But Yuri’s grin had only grown wider.

“Oh, no,” he said. “You had it right the first time.”

The kiss was exuberant but soft, Yuri sliding his hand up to Flynn’s neck and taking his time. It made Flynn wonder if not having such long gaps between seeing each other would make their encounters less needy and urgent, more about simply enjoying each other. That didn’t seem like a bad thing.

The next day, Flynn remembered the hair. He held the silver strand up to the morning light, innocent now. Laughing quietly, he set it back on the table and brushed it into the wastebasket with the others. It wasn’t important. Flynn stretched, dressed slowly. There was, for the first time in a very long time, nowhere else that he had to be. The scent of cinnamon wafted in from the kitchen, and he breathed in deeply. Yuri would be waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for festivewind, who won my auction thread for a fic of 1,000+ words on the LJ community help_haiti in exchange for making a donation to UNICEF. Originally posted on LJ writing journal, April 15, 2010.


End file.
